The View from Heaven
by Landing In London
Summary: Fred Weasley watches over his little sister. Post DH. D/G. Oneshot.


Previously uploaded from the Fire and Ice archives. This is a story I wrote right after DH came out. It's completely from Fred's POV, I hope you like it.

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We never really know what will make us happy, we're too busy dwelling on what we think will make us happy.

My life was always one to be envied.

Great family, great job, great personality, great friends.

It was all great, basically.

But I never fell in love, never looked into a woman's eyes and knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, never felt those feelings that make grown men do stupid things like write poetry and buy flowers.

I thought I had all the time in the world. I'll regret that for eternity.

I wanted better for her.

She thought she loved the great Harry Potter...really, what kind of bullshit is that? There was nothing really wrong with the boy, he had some anger issues and was a little introspective, but for all he'd been through he was a pretty decent chap. Such a decent chap she pined over him for six years, six long, agonizing years for those who had to watch the Boy-Who-Lived trample her to bits with his incessant cluelessness. He never saw her as more than his best friend's little sister, maybe a good friend, but nowhere near the way he saw others, like that Chang girl. She was never a goddess in his eyes, even though he was a great god in hers.

Sure, he came around eventually. But again, what kind of bullshit is that? Not even the greatest fairytales are delusional enough to say that if you wait long enough the boy of your dreams will eventually come to his senses and realize he's in love with you. It just doesn't work that way. But it seemed Ginny's story was going to be a little different.

It seemed.

After Dumbledore died I knew it was the end, even if she didn't. Harry was too far gone. Even if he survived this war and killed Voldemort, he had lost too much of himself to be the same boy she fell for all those years ago. I knew it, everyone knew it.

But still she waited.

I watched after the war was over, hoping that little Ginny had grown up enough to see what was good for her, but alas, love is blind. She clung to him, so happy he had survived, so in need of someone who could love her enough to help her through the pain of the friends and family she had lost. He tried, bless him he tried, but he had lost so much more than she had, and all the pain was just too much weight for such a young relationship to support.

In the end, Harry Potter broke her heart, just like we always knew he would.

Dumb git.

I don't think she ever really recovered from that. The greater part of her teen years was wasted on boys she only wanted to numb the pain of his ignorance, and one boy who she truly loved, who wasn't even worth it in the end. Now eighteen, it seemed as though Ginny was starting her life for the first time, and I could see how much it scared her.

It scared me too. I wasn't sure she was ready. You'd have though I'd have learned never to underestimate her, but alas testosterone does make us stupid.

That's right, I admitted it. All us blokes are stupid gits with our heads stuck up our arse's. Happy?

Anyway, she worked with George at the joke shop for awhile, but I knew it was only a matter of time before she struck out on her own. On her nineteenth birthday she bought a little flat in wizarding London and applied for a job at the Daily Prophet, which she got of course. They would have to be a special kind of idiot to reject her.

The job was as a junior editor. She could've been a great reporter, but I think the idea of being the next Rita Skeeter was a bit much for her. She was content proof-reading articles and sizing them for the columns the senior-editors had designated. They payed her well for it, too. All in all it seemed Ginny was on the fast track to a good life.

And then she met him.

He hand delivered the article to her, said it was important he saw exactly what changes she was going to make, so he could make sure she didn't fuck it up. He wasn't a reporter, if he were she would have told him to piss off and take it up with her supervisor, but he was there on behalf of the Ministry of Magic. Maybe it was the authority he held, or the fact she was in shock at the notion someone who couldn't possibly have a character reference he didn't share that nifty little tattoo with got a job at the Ministry, but she let him sit with her as she proof-read the article on new Pro-Werewolf legislations.

They talked while she worked.

She laughed like she hadn't laughed in a long time.

And when he left she realized how much he had changed since the war.

Which made her realize how much she had changed.

How much everyone had changed.

The next day she called him and asked him to come to her office, said there was a problem with the article and she needed his help.

There was no problem, so instead of helping he took her out to lunch.

The rest, as they say, is history.

I didn't like it at first, no one did. He was Draco-Sodding-Malfoy, and she was our sweet little Ginevra, the one who had her own militia of brothers to protect her from precisely the kind of boy they remembered Malfoy to be. Luckily for the poor bastard, it didn't take long for them to realize, as Ginny had, he had changed for the better. Slowly, the pranks George pulled on him turned less cruel (or at least he stopped using the products that were technically labeled as dark magic), which Ginny if no one else recognized as initiation to the family. Charlie discussed Quidditch with him passionately. Bill challenged him to several games of chess, and was impressed to find their skills were more or less evenly matched. Even Percy took to him kindly, glad to find someone besides Dad he could talk to about the innerworkings of the Ministry. The first Christmas Ginny and Draco shared together, Molly invited him to the Burrow, and I knew that was it. He was in. Ron never completely warmed up to him, but some things are just outside the realm of possibility.

I saw the way her cheeks flushed when he touched her in the most innocent ways, the way her body seemed to tremble when he kissed her, the way her eyes glassed over and her mood went light at the mere mention of his name. It was love, and it tore at my heart in the most wonderful ways to know she finally found what I was afraid she never would.

It was the eve of her 21st birthday when he finally popped the question. A few months later Ginny Wealsey was Ginny Malfoy. I had never been more happy for her, but I was a little chagrined too...I was still her older brother after all.

Harry was at the wedding, but I doubt Ginny knew it. Him and Ron kind of kept to themselves, both barking in annoyance at Hermione when she returned from sharing a dance with the groom. Ron said she was going to have to boil her skin before he touched her again., causing Hermione to throw a glass of wine in his face and stalk off to dance with Bill and Charlie, both of whom seemed highly amused at the whole thing. Fights, laughs and tears (the latter mostly from Mum) made it a typical Weasley gathering, and I was sorry I couldn't be there.

George twirled our little sister around the dancefloor until she was dizzy and laughing, and as she stumbled he chanced a glance up at the sky and winked. I grinned back at my twin, not even remotely doubtful as to whether or not he could see me. He whispered something in Ginny's ear and she glanced up too, giving the clouds her most winning smile before wiping a tear from her eye, kissing George on the cheek and making her way over to her husband.

Draco brought her from our comfortable little Burrow into the lap of luxury, and I watched over her all the while. I think she knew it, too. She named her first child Fred, a very fitting name, since he was blessed with the better features from both his parents and came out looking remarkably handsome. He had the Weasley hair though, which put Draco out a bit, but made me one proud uncle.

They fought, like any other couple. During the year Ginny had a mental breakdown because she noticed the striking resemblance she was beginning to develop to Mum - from mannerisms down to crows feet - they fought constantly. But bless him, he suffered her. I don't think any man besides Draco Malfoy could deal with a hysterical Weasely woman with quite the same grace. Sometimes I could swear he picked fights with her just so he could calm her down and sweep her upstairs for a child-free hour or two...for some reason their fights always ended that way.

Those were the only times I didn't look after my baby sister. That was just crossing way too many lines - it sickened me enough to see her take her lingerie out of the wash. No during those times I would pop in on my other siblings, watch my nieces and nephews play, cheer on Hermione in the row she was inevitably having with Ron, or watch smugly as George chatted up some leggy blonde that just-so-happened into the joke shop. I loved it when George got the leggy blondes, it made me proud.

The years went on. The children went off to school, to work, to their new families. Draco's hairline receded and Ginny's began to go gray. Mum passed on, then Dad, then Percy, and Draco held Ginny's hand through every funeral. He had family die to, and she went to the funerals with him, but after that obligation was through they never spoke of them again. The only one that ever got to him was his Mother; he sank into a deep depression and Ginny stayed firmly beside him until he finally came around.

When Draco's time finally came Ginny sat by his sickbed with their daughter and two sons, until the medi-witch told her there was nothing more to be done, and he slipped away. We kept watching over her together, actually became rather good chums while he waited for her to join him.

And join him she did.

The only two left of our generation when she died were George and Ron - at this point I had decided George was just never going to die, and I think Ron was too scared of leaving Hermione to let himself. Her funeral was attended by witches and wizards from all over, and my stomach clenched at the sight of just how many people my baby sister had managed to touch in her lifetime.

When she ascended, Draco was waiting for her.

So was I, and Mum, Dad, Percy, Charlie and Bill. We all greeted her with open arms, and she clung to me for what seemed to be an eternity before settling back into Draco's hold, where she belonged.

And I didn't have to watch over her anymore.

She was at peace.

She had no regrets.

I had wanted better for my baby sister than I had had.

And by Merlin, I'd say my wish was granted.

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Fred Weasley is my spirit animal. R&R.


End file.
